


Lord, What Fools

by 743ish, littleblackfox



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Brooklyn, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, Hallucinogens, M/M, Midsummer Night's Dream, Mildly unpleasant drug comedowns, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mutual dumbassery, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Comedy, Sex, Shakespeare, theatre nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/743ish/pseuds/743ish, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox
Summary: Wanda exhales moodily. “You’re all fuckingidiots,” she snaps, and stalks off.___In which four oblivious nerds perform Shakespeare and are extremely Wrong about basically everything.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018!
> 
> Story by [743ish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/743ish/pseuds/743ish)
> 
> Art by [littleblackfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox)
> 
> *
> 
> This story is about actors performing the Shakespeare play "A Midsummer Night's Dream." If you don't know the play, it won't matter, but it might help to be aware that it's about a couple of fairies who put love-spells on a bunch of people and mess around with them in a forest at night :)

ACT I

_Marry, our play is_

_The most lamentable comedy_

*

_EIGHT WEEKS BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

The moon is still out, sharing the sky with the sunrise, when Bucky arrives a whole hour early to the first rehearsal.

He’s not early out of eagerness, or excitement, or anything like that. He’d much rather still be in bed, to be completely fucking honest, and he’s been acting long enough that first-day jitters don’t bother him. But his gym’s too far from the theater to get in a decent workout beforehand, and he’ll definitely be home too late tonight. So he gets his gear on, grabs his backpack, and runs the 23 blocks to the theater.

The Brooklyn Stone House is one of Bucky’s favorite theaters in the world. His mom used to take him there to see the children’s puppet shows when he was a kid, and he’s loved it ever since. It’s a huge old mansion—one of the oldest buildings in the city—that was converted to a theater in the 60s, and by now it’s become an institution of local pro theater. The company does outdoor Shakespeare in the mansion’s courtyard every summer.

This year it’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream,_ and it’s going to be one of the first major productions of the play to feature some explicitly LGBT relationships. Nick Fury is an amazing, accomplished director, and his vision for the characters is incredibly nuanced and interesting. Bucky’s so proud to be a part of it.

Because he’s a principal, they already gave him a key to get in, and an hour early is plenty of time for a long shower and a quick read over his lines. He punches the code to disable the alarm system and heads back to the dressing room.

But there’s already someone there: a blond head whips around as Bucky opens the door, and he freezes at the unexpected face.

“Hi,” the guy says.

“Um.” He blinks. Why is there someone here so early? And who is this kid? Bucky already knows most of the people in the cast, by name at least; he’s worked with a lot of them before. But this guy is new.

At first glance, there's maybe not a particular reason for Bucky’s brain to react the way it does. The guy isn't necessarily much to look at: he's small and pale, angular, with features that are too big for his face. He's wearing generic street clothes; he has medical tape across his eyebrow and what seems to be a split lip. The injuries give him a hard, prickly look, but his eyes are kind. There’s something intriguing about the contrast.

Bucky thinks he’s goddamn beautiful.

“Oh,” says the guy.“I’m sorry, I’m super early, I thought I’d hang out back here until everyone was ready, but I can—if you were going to—I mean, I can go—”

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky manages. “It’s, it’s fine, there’s room. I was just...surprised to see anyone. I'm also insanely early. Obviously.”

The guy smiles.

Bucky had thought he was going to be okay, but that smile freezes him to the spot. The guy's whole face opens up, genuine and sweet, and there really is _no reason_ for Bucky’s stomach to fill with butterflies, but it does. His hand is still on the door, and he can’t move, just stands there staring like an idiot.

The guy keeps smiling, and then he says, “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers? I’m playing Puck.” He holds up the copy of the script he’d been reading.

Oh, God. _This_ is Steve Rogers?

Steve Rogers who’s playing Puck. Steve Rogers who’ll be Bucky’s scene partner for, like, most of the play.

Bucky's playing Oberon, King of the Fairies—traditionally married to Titania, the Fairy Queen. But Nick’s production will present Titania and Oberon’s relationship as purely political, with Oberon and his servant, Puck, as lovers instead. The script of the play hasn’t been altered a bit, so it’s up to the actors to use their physicality to bring the relationships to life.

Bucky will be manhandling Steve on stage. A _lot_.

“Oh,” he says hoarsely. “Cool.” He makes himself move, finally gets the door shut behind him and thumps his bag on the bench, and approaches Steve with his hand outstretched. “I’m James Barnes.”

Steve shakes his hand. Bucky takes note of the grazed knuckles.

“I know who you are,” Steve says. “I saw you in _The Glass Menagerie_.”

“Really?” Bucky raises his eyebrows. That show had not done well. “Wow, nobody else did.”

“Yeah,” says Steve. “But it really stuck with me. And you were great in it. I’m…” he smiles again, and Bucky thinks he looks a little shy this time. “I’m really excited to be working with you.”

“Wow,” says Bucky. “Thanks. Likewise.” He wishes he could tell Steve he liked _him_ in something, but he’s definitely never seen him before. He would remember.

He sits on the bench next to his bag and starts taking off his running shoes.

“Well, I’ll just—I guess I’ll get out of your way,” Steve says, gathering his things. “See you out there.” He smiles at Bucky on his way toward the door. “It was nice to meet you, James.”

Bucky watches him turn away. “Bucky,” he bursts out.

Steve looks back, his eyebrows furrowed adorably. “Huh?”

Oh, Jesus Christ. “It’s my name. My nickname.” Bucky hauls in a breath. “James is my professional name. You can call me Bucky? If you want.” He shrugs, hoping Steve interprets it as the normal body language of a human adult in casual conversation. “Most people—my friends call me that.” He smiles unsteadily.

Steve beams back at him. “Okay, then. Bucky,” he says. “I’ll remember that.”

*

> Sam: hey buddy can you pick up milk on your way home  
>  Sam: I gotta stay until at least 6
> 
> Steve: yeah ok
> 
> Sam: how was your first day?
> 
> Steve: It was really good. Bucky is great.
> 
> Sam: Who the hell is Bucky?
> 
> Steve: James Barnes  
>  Steve: It’s his nickname  
>  Steve: He told me to call him that
> 
> Sam: that scary motherfucker told you to call him BUCKY?  
>  Sam: w o w
> 
> Steve: he’s not scary  
>  Steve: you’ll find out when you work with him  
>  Steve: he’s handsome  
>  Steve: he’s so good as Oberon  
>  Steve: and he’s really nice
> 
> Sam: Steve
> 
> Steve: what
> 
> Sam: don’t screw the crew
> 
> Steve: lol shut up 

*

_THREE WEEKS BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

The huge oak tree, fully in leaf, provides welcome shade over most of the stage, but Bucky is still sweating through his tank top.

It’s one of the hazards of an outdoor performance. They’re rehearsing in the middle of a big courtyard behind the theater, the tree in the center, massive branches twisting all over and reaching down in places.

Their stage has been built around the tree, with a walkway to a larger platform opposite. The platform is Athens, where the mortal characters live, and the stage around the tree is the woodland—the fairies’ domain. As Oberon, Bucky works entirely on the tree side. He and Steve spend a good portion of the play _in_ the tree.

As a performance space, the outdoor stage is unique and beautiful and inspiring. But it does mean rehearsing out in the elements, even when there’s a heat wave, and goddamn, Bucky misses the indoor AC right now.

He wipes his forehead and goes to his mark on the stage, and tries to focus on what Natasha, in character as Titania, is saying.

“These are the forgeries of jealousy:  
And never, since the middle summer’s spring,  
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead...”

She’s fucking dynamite as Titania. Her presence on the stage is mesmerizing. She’s got to be just as hot and tired as Bucky feels, but you’d never know it to look at her: she’s poised and perfect, and Bucky loves running through scenes with her.

She finishes her big speech, yelling at Oberon for being an asshole, and Bucky gets himself in character and spins on her and yells back:

“Do you amend it then; it lies in you:  
Why should Titania cross her Oberon?”

He grabs her arm at this point, making himself loom over her, and anyone else her size might seem threatened. But Nat gives Titania huge power; she grips his wrist and squares up to him. The audience will be able to feel her anger just in the way she stands.

“Okay,” Nick calls. “That wasn’t terrible. Take five minutes, everyone.”

Nat smiles at Bucky, a real smile, and they break apart.

Bucky gets a drink from his bag and leans against the tree. He concentrates on trying not to melt. Fuck this humidity, seriously.

“Hey, Bucky,” says a voice, and Bucky looks up. It’s Steve.

“Hi,” he replies weakly. He _maybe_ still has a little trouble talking to Steve.

“You been here long?” Steve says.

Bucky nods. “All morning.”

“Shit,” Steve says. His face is sweaty, and his skinny shoulder is sticking out of the collar of a huge t-shirt. It does something very specific to Bucky’s insides. “I don’t envy that schedule. I just got here and I can barely stand up. When is this heat supposed to break?”

“Oh,” says Bucky. “I dunno.” Damn, how eloquent. Great job, pal.

“Well, if I die from an asthma attack, tell Nick I blame him.”

Bucky frowns. “You have asthma? Are you going to be okay?” He pushes himself up off the tree. “Should we tell someone? You shouldn’t have to be here if—”

“Bucky,” Steve laughs. “I’m fine. I got my inhaler, I was just kidding, it’s all good.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Okay. Good. That’s...good.”

He’d been planning to say something more, but Steve smiles at him the way he always does—bashful and teasing at once—and all thoughts leave Bucky’s head.

He glances up helplessly, and startles when he finds himself making eye contact with Wanda, the Assistant Stage Manager. What’s her last name? Something long that matches her accent. Right now she’s standing off to the side of the stage, and she’s watching Bucky intently. It’s weird. She kind of gives him the creeps.

He gives her a brief smile and looks back at Steve. Steve is drinking a gatorade with his head tipped back, exposing all sorts of creamy skin, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut.

Okay. Just say _one thing_ , Barnes. Doesn’t have to be amazing. Just say something.

“You got any plans for the weekend?” he says.

Perfect. Awesome. Keep it up.

Steve puts the lid back on his bottle and wrinkles his nose. “We have rehearsal both days.”

Right. “Right. But, like,” Bucky gestures vaguely. “Nothing fun afterward?”

“Nah,” Steve says, “probably just go home and watch a movie with Sam.”

Bucky glances over to where Sam Wilson is leaning against the stage. Wilson’s playing Demetrius; Bucky has a few scenes with him. He’s close with Steve. It seems like they’re always hanging out together and…

Oh. Bucky’s brain catches up. Okay.

He nods toward Wilson. “How long have you guys been…?”

“Almost a year,” Steve says. “We’ve known each other forever.” He shrugs. “Just made sense, you know?”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Cool.”

That’s that, then. Bucky should probably have known.

“See you in a bit,” Steve says. He gives a little wave and a smile, then heads over to Sam.

Bucky watches them together. They’re not demonstrative, but he can see it now: their comfort with each other, their playfulness. Fucking _Wilson_. Bucky’s always thought he was a smug asshole.

Natasha’s been watching from the front of the stage, chewing on an apple, legs dangling over the edge. She hops up and approaches Bucky, shaking her head.

“Well, that looked excruciating,” she says. “What was that? Were you trying to _flirt_?”

“Shut up,” Bucky mutters.

He settles next to her on the edge of the stage and rubs his hands over his face. He loves Nat, he really does. But she’s relentless when it comes to roasting him, and right now she knows she’s got him good.

This is the first time he and Nat have worked together on anything big, which seems crazy—they’ve known each other for years. They dated, kind of, back in college. Maybe “dated” is the wrong word; it was mostly just having sex a lot and then eating takeout in each other’s dorms. The sex petered out in the middle of sophomore year, but the Thai food and getting in each other’s business is still going strong. At least, Natasha’s always in _Bucky’s_ business. He never knows what the hell is going on with her.

Now she grins at him juicily, around the apple. “You used to be sooo smooth, Barnes.”

Bucky scowls. “I’m still smooth.”

She side-eyes him with her mouth full. “Any time he’s around,” she says, “you are the world’s most awkward loser.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky says. “When did this become funny to you?”

“Oh, please,” she says. “This is objectively hilarious.”

*

_TWO WEEKS BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

> Sam: STEVE  
>  Sam: Where are you  
>  Sam: EMERGENCY
> 
> Steve: I’m getting coffee  
>  Steve: what  
>  Steve: what is it
> 
> Sam: COME BACK YOU’RE MISSING IT  
>  Sam: Natasha and James are rehearsing
> 
> Steve: …  
>  Steve: I literally see them rehearse every day
> 
> Sam: She’s wearing the yoga pants again
> 
> Steve: ugh  
>  Steve: god you’re fucking gross  
>  Steve: this is why everyone thinks straight men are creeps  
>  Steve: because you are all actual creeps
> 
> Sam: STEVE SHUT UP AND LISTEN  
>  Sam: JAMES IS WEARING THE SAME EXACT YOGA PANTS
> 
> Steve: oh shit
> 
> Sam: [image file sent]
> 
> Steve: sfjksdhglkjsdgh  
>  Steve: i’ll be right there
> 
> Sam: ok  
>  Sam: steve i know this is a radical suggestion but  
>  Sam: you should ask him out
> 
> Steve: uh but he’s dating Natasha?
> 
> Sam: damn  
>  Sam: he is?  
>  Sam: that’s an intimidating couple
> 
> Steve: right?
> 
> Sam: now I don't feel so bad that she turned me down last week
> 
> Steve: SFASDGHADG  
>  Steve: YOU ASKED HER OUT  
>  Steve: ?????
> 
> Sam: lol yeah  
>  Sam: i had to at least try 

*

_ONE WEEK BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

They’re in technical rehearsals now, and Nick has Steve and Bucky work on their scenes from Act III. It’s going okay, but they can’t get the kiss right.

In their fourth run-through of the scene, Steve hits his mark no problem, but Bucky lands in a weird position. He has to stop and turn awkwardly in order to take Steve in his arms and dip him.

Steve flails an arm, and Bucky can’t tell if it’s in-character flailing, or he thinks Bucky will really drop him.

He barely gets his lips to Steve’s when Nick claps his hands.

“Barnes!” he calls. “You’re coming in late. Try it again.”

Bucky hauls Steve upright, and eases him gently to his feet. “You all right?” he says.

“Yep,” says Steve. “That wasn’t bad.”

“We’ll get it,” Bucky says.

It’s been a frustrating rehearsal. It’s not the kiss, really, so much as the lead-in to the kiss. It’s an important piece of stage direction—it’s what sets this production apart. Bucky, as Oberon, yells _This falls out better than I could devise,_ jumps down from the raised platform at the edge of the stage, and kisses the hell out of Steve, as Puck.

It’s the scene where their two characters are shown to be in a physical relationship. It’s a fun and tender moment, and it needs to be flawless. They’ve had it working perfectly—inside the rehearsal theater. But the outdoor stage is another matter, and they’re having to find their marks all over again.

“Rogers, take it from _So, at his sight,_ ” Nick says. He sounds pissed, but Bucky’s learned not to take it personally—Nick always sounds pissed.“And Barnes, drop down sooner, you’re leaving too much of a gap between your line and the kiss.”

Bucky nods and climbs back into position in the tree. He’s on a low branch, face toward the audience so they can see Oberon’s reaction as Puck speaks.

Steve starts, roughly in the middle of a speech that’s pure comedy. Puck is describing how he confused and frightened a group of mortals in the woods, and Steve delivers it wonderfully every time. He mimics the fear in their eyes, exaggerates their panicky movements; Puck is proud of himself here, reporting to his Master about the chaos he’s created, and Bucky tries to reflect the pride back in his face as he listens.

It isn’t difficult. Steve is very good at his job. Bucky believes every word of what he says, and has no trouble getting into character when they work together.

This time, Bucky starts to jump from the tree right as Steve says his final line, so his feet hit the stage earlier. He strides over and is on Steve between one beat and the next.

The timing is perfect. Bucky scoops him up and dips him almost upside down to kiss him, and Steve hams it up, swooning dramatically with an arm flung over his head. Bucky has one hand around Steve’s ribs and the other beneath his neck, and he adjusts his grip to take more of Steve’s weight. They’ve practiced this over and over, so they know what they’re doing.

But then their lips press, and somehow this time Steve’s mouth is open—or maybe Bucky’s is—and Steve’s eyes go wide. Bucky swipes his tongue out almost on instinct, and fuck, mayday, what the hell is he doing? He freezes, and then Steve makes a _noise_ , a little surprised sound that Bucky feels down to his toes, and then opens his mouth _more_ , and now they’re kissing for real.

They’re supposed to keep the kiss there, waiting, allowing the audience time to react. They still have more lines to deliver, played for laughs, while holding this goofy pose. But this is—it’s soft and deep and _real_ in a way that it’s never been before and oh, God, this is very much _not okay_ for Bucky to be doing, and he pulls his head back jerkily and helps Steve stand up with him.

He wipes his mouth furtively and tries to catch his breath. Holy shit.

“Okay!” Nick calls. “That was better. How did it feel?”

“Fine!” Bucky says hastily. He nods and glances at Steve. “Right? Pretty good?”

Steve coughs. “Yeah, that felt good,” he says. “I mean, the, um. Timing. Was—”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s sure his face is on fire.

“Okay!” Nick says. He doesn’t seem to notice that anything unusual happened. “Take a break. We’ll start back here again in ten minutes.”

Bucky flees.

He jumps down from the stage and heads for the theater door. He passes Wanda, who fixes him with another of her bizarrely knowing smiles, and then he goes inside to hide in the bathroom.

*

> Steve: Sam omg help me  
>  Steve: I accidentally kissed Bucky for real  
>  Steve: during the scene
> 
> Sam: lol  
>  Sam: how real we talking
> 
> Steve: real real  
>  Steve: like with tongue, a little bit
> 
> Sam: haha you’re a disaster
> 
> Steve: how could i do that???  
>  Steve: it’s not funny
> 
> Sam: eh it doesn’t need to be a big deal
> 
> Steve: adgasfafg we work together and I KISSED him  
>  Steve: it’s so inappropriate  
>  Steve: [crying emoji] [crying emoji] [crying emoji]
> 
> Sam: what did he do?
> 
> Steve: he stood up really fast and took like 4 steps back  
>  Steve: it was so awkward  
>  Steve: i want to die
> 
> Sam: lolllll
> 
> Steve: it was a really good kiss tho 

*

Nat fucking _cackles_ at Bucky when he finally comes back outside.

“Were you trying to _make out_ with him?” she says delightedly.

Bucky growls and stomps to the side of the stage, and she follows him, still laughing.

They watch the actors on the Athenian side of the stage run through a different scene from Act III. Demetrius and Lysander have had love-charms placed on them by Puck, and are fighting over the same woman—Helena—while Lysander’s former lover Hermia is left confused and scorned. It’s really funny. Bucky has to admit that Wilson is really good as Demetrius.

Whatever, he’s still a prick.

Bucky sneaks a look at Steve; he’s sitting against the tree trunk, looking at his phone. He looks totally relaxed. Bucky’s relieved the asthma hasn’t made an appearance; the heat has been brutal again this week, but Steve did the whole scene without seeming affected at all.

His performance as Puck is childlike, gamboling; it’s really endearing. He plays off Bucky so well. Onstage, in character, they’re opposites in every way, and it works—everything just seems to click. It hasn’t been awkward, even with Bucky’s enormous crush, even with the amount of touching they do all day long at rehearsal. Bucky carries Steve on his shoulders in one scene, on his back in another; a few times, he lifts him into the air with one hand. They rehearse shirtless most of the time; they’ve had to get very comfortable with one another, in a physical sense, and it’s been hard, but Bucky is a goddamn professional and he _hasn’t let it get weird._

Until now. With that kiss, he’s really fucked up. He can’t believe he let it happen.

Natasha leans over to him. “He is very cute,” she says, quietly.

“Drop it,” Bucky says.

“Just ask him out already.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky, “great idea. I can't wait to turn this excellent working relationship into an inappropriate shitshow, right before we open.”

“You guys have chemistry. It wouldn't have to be weird.”

He looks over at her. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“I don't know,” she says absently. “You look good together.”

Bucky sighs. “He's dating Wilson.”

“Oh.” Natasha frowns. “Sam Wilson? Are you sure?”

“Yes. Apparently it’s a long-term thing.”

“That’s strange,” she says. “He asked me out the other week.”

Bucky stares. “ _Wilson_ asked you out?”

“Yeah, he asked me to get coffee.”

“And he definitely meant it as a date?”

“Yes,” she says, with a little smile. “There was no ambiguity.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no, but I was thinking of changing my mind.” She catches Bucky’s appalled face and raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t _know_ he was with Steve, James. Obviously.”

“Shit.” Bucky looks at Steve again. Wilson _cheats_ on him? “That fucking scumbag.”

“Maybe they have an open relationship.”

Bucky glowers. “Maybe I need to have a word with him.”

“It’s not really our business, is it?” Natasha says. She hops down off the stage. “Come on, we’re up.” She pats his shoulder. “And please tone down the murder face.”

“This is an in-character murder face,” Bucky tells her.

*

> Sam: is it just me or did Barnes look even angrier than usual during that scene
> 
> Steve: i didn’t notice anything
> 
> Sam: i know Nick wants him to play Oberon as a grouchy badass but i swear dude was plotting my death
> 
> Steve: weird, he was being totally sweet this morning
> 
> Sam: sweet is NOT a word i would use to describe that man
> 
> Steve: you just don’t know him sam  
>  Steve: he’s really nice
> 
> Sam: idk man  
>  Sam: he seemed so pissed
> 
> Steve: maybe he found out you hit on Natasha
> 
> Sam: omg  
>  Sam: that's probably it  
>  Sam: I'm gonna die
> 
> Steve: you’re paranoid
> 
> Sam: avenge me
> 
> Steve: lol 

*


	2. Act II

ACT II

_Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once:_  


_The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid_  


_Will make or man or woman madly dote_  


_Upon the next live creature that it sees._

*

_TWO DAYS BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

The final tech rehearsal goes really well. If Steve feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t show it, and they nail every scene. Including the kiss. Which Bucky is careful to execute with very tightly closed lips.

He sits in the front of the stage to watch the scenes he’s not in. Everyone’s great. Steve is hilarious and bratty and profound by turns; he’ll have the audience eating out of his hand, no question.

Natasha is her usual brilliant self, moving her character effortlessly between haughty and raunchy. There’s a scene in which Titania is under the spell of Oberon’s love-charm; she’s lusting uncontrollably after Bottom, a mortal who’s been cursed by Puck to have the head of an ass. The guy who plays Bottom, Clint Barton, is a straight-up hilarious idiot. Bucky’s seen them rehearse a hundred times, but he still cracks up at Titania seducing the crazy donkey-headed guy in the woods.

It’s during this scene that Wanda glides over to Bucky.

“Hi, Fairy King,” she says. She never uses his name; only that. She’s really fucking weird.

“Hey,” Bucky says, warily. “How’s it going?”

“It’s good. The show will be very good.”

Bucky nods. “Hope so.” He smiles at her for lack of anything else to say.

She stares into his eyes for a moment, then says, “Afterward, we are going out. A celebration for the final rehearsal. You and Natasha should come.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Where are you going?”

“A party! For drinks.”

“Okay…” That doesn’t really clear anything up. “And...who—?”

She gestures vaguely. “Some of us. The crew.” Then she smiles with her teeth. “Steve. And Sam.” 

“Oh,” Bucky says again. Why the hell is she bringing them up?

“Tell Natasha,” Wanda says. “Make sure to tell her.”

“Um, okay,” Bucky says. “Sure. Thanks.”

Wanda nods solemnly and slips away.

He frowns after her. He’s never hung out with Wanda before. They’ve barely spoken before this week. So that conversation felt...incredibly strange.

And Bucky wouldn’t normally take her up on the invite, but he’s feeling a little keyed up from the show. So even though it’s Tuesday, he tells Nat about it after the rehearsal ends, and only makes her beg him a little. He’s been doing ten-hour days for a month straight, and now he’s got the day off before they open on Thursday night. It will be nice to have a night out.

And, yeah, also: Steve is going. Bucky is apparently a glutton for punishment.

“That Wanda is a little freaky, though,” he says to Nat as they head inside to change. “She’s always _looking_ at me.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re hot,” Nat says.

Bucky snorts. “That’s not the sense I get,” he says. “It's more...like she’s waiting for me to say something. I don't know.”

“I know what you mean, though,” Nat says. “She looks at me like that, too.”

Bucky laughs. “Maybe she thinks we’re both hot.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.”

*

They end up at someone's place, or someone's friend's place, about a block from the theater. It's the kind of dumpy apartment Bucky spent plenty of nights at during college: weed and incense and cigarette smoke, fairy lights in the living room, second-hand furniture. The music is annoying; thumpy tribal EDM or whatever, too loud to hear anyone properly.

The door stays open into the hall, and people wander in and out constantly, and everyone seems overly young and extravagantly wasted. Bucky assumes it's a college party, probably a theater-student party. They’re most likely Wanda’s friends; she’s floating around and draping herself over people who seem to know her, and they all kinda share the ethereal hippie-witch vibe she’s perfected. Bucky’s wearing his usual black everything—skinny jeans and a t-shirt and boots—and he thinks he looks okay. But he doesn’t have, like, a drapey scarf, or rings, or fucking epaulets or whatever these goddamn kids are wearing. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he just looks like a dork.

Natasha ditches him practically the second they arrive, which would normally be fine, but he barely knows anyone else, except some of the guys from the stage crew. The only other actors from the production who showed up are Steve and Sam. Steve is currently laughing in a group of hipstery kids on the other side of the room. It gives Bucky a pang to see him.

It’s so weird; for years and years he’s been totally content to be single. Dating casually was his _preference_. But since starting this job, a loneliness has crept into his days. It unsettles him, feeling truly lonely. He's started to worry that it might be permanent.

He leans on the wall, crossing his arms and wishing he still smoked. He makes himself look away from Steve’s group. It was already awkward enough, him acting like a creep at rehearsal with that kiss; no need to stare like a lunatic on top of all that.

A few minutes go by, with Bucky feeling increasingly stupid by the second. Where the _fuck_ is Natasha? Should he just leave?

Then Wanda drifts in and makes her way over to Steve's hipster corner. She tugs him away from his friends, whispering in his ear, and he grins at her and follows her to the couch in the middle of the room.

She sits, and Steve slides down sideways onto the couch and tips his head back into her lap. Wanda strokes his hair off his face and smiles, and Steve smiles back up at her. She holds up a little white cloth pouch, decorated with a flowering plant motif and tied with a drawstring. She fishes around inside it and brings out something small—a mushroom. Steve grins, then closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, his tongue out.

Bucky is staring, but they don’t notice him, and anyway lots of people are staring, they are doing this on purpose so people will watch. Wanda places the mushroom on Steve’s tongue, and Steve smiles, open-mouthed, and lets it sit there for a second before he draws it in. He keeps his head rested on Wanda’s legs, eyes closed and smiling like he’s dreaming.

Bucky drinks his beer and watches Steve’s chest rise and fall. He’s kissed him—how many times, in rehearsal? Hundreds, at this point. Bucky knows exactly how Steve’s lips feel, and how he smells; what it’s like to put his hands on his skin. And he’s trying not to be a creep, but knowing those things has been driving him nuts for the past four months.

Suddenly, Wanda addresses Bucky. “Your turn, Fairy King.”

He startles. “What?”

She gestures at him with the bag. Jesus _,_ she is such an intense person—that little smile is like she's reading his mind. The smile widens, and she holds up another mushroom between two sharp black nails.

This is probably a bad idea. The show opens on Thursday, and he knows he should get a good sleep...Nick will probably be mad...

But he hasn’t had a night out in a really long time. And Steve is lying there like an offering in Wanda’s lap, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, a little smile on his face. And when it comes down to it, Bucky is weak.

He walks over to the couch. He can see the pulse in Steve’s throat, and he has to tear his eyes away to look back at Wanda. She’s still watching him, waiting to see what he’ll do.

Fuck it. It’s been ages since he did anything like this, but he’s had fun on mushrooms before. He reaches out to take it, but Wanda tuts and pulls her hand back.

“Open your mouth,” she says.

Bucky scowls. He would really rather not be _fed_. But then Steve gives a little laugh from the couch, and Bucky looks down into his eyes.

“Go on,” Steve says.

Bucky swears inwardly and leans forward, mouth open. Wanda puts the mushroom in his mouth, nods, and pats him on the cheek.

“Enjoy your night,” she says.

Bucky stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” She smiles her weird secret smile again, and Bucky retreats.

He leaves Steve on the couch with Wanda petting his hair. Something about that whole thing seems off to him, but whatever. He needs a fucking drink.

Natasha’s in the kitchen watching a group of the stage crew guys take shots of something.

She’s nursing a beer, and she hands him one in greeting. “I might head home.”

“What?” Bucky says. “Why?”

“Eh, not feeling it.”

“Aw, Nat, we got tomorrow off. Come on, let’s have some fuckin’ fun for once!”

“ _I_ frequently have fun,” she says. “You’re the elderly shut-in. What brought this on?”

“I don’t know, I just—come on, stay, let’s get fucked up with these insane children.”

“Ugh, really?”

Bucky starts to laugh. “I just ate some mushrooms.”

She looks at him like he’s got two heads. “You what?”

“See, you can’t ditch me now!”

“What the hell brought this on?” she says. “Where’d you get _mushrooms_?”

“I don’t know, Wanda had some, and—” He clears his throat. “Uh, Steve.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Natasha says. “Okay.” She tips her head back to finish her beer. “I’m in. This is going to be _hilarious_.” She turns to one of the guys with the liquor. “Hey, can I get a shot?”

Bucky grins and watches her take two. He loves Nat. It's going to be such a fun night.

*

Natasha gets to know the stage crew bros, and Bucky drinks his beer and listens absently. He doesn’t really do small talk at the best of times, and right now he suddenly feels it’s very important to just listen. The music from the living room is really getting into his chest.

Eventually, he follows the beat back to the living room. He never dances, but it’s such a _good_ baseline, and his body moves to it without a conscious decision. The group of weird theater kids—the ones Steve was with—are all dancing too, and he doesn’t really find them that weird any more. Just kids. They’re all just people. Everyone’s doing their best. They’re nice. It’s so nice.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but suddenly Natasha’s there, and wow, she’s looking a lot sloppier than when he last saw her. She grins and puts her hands on his shoulders and they dance together, and God it’s fun. It’s really, really fun.

Then Wanda and Steve show up again, and Sam. Bucky smiles at them and Steve smiles back and they all dance and it’s fun. Bucky doesn’t even care that Sam is there.

Steve can’t fuckin’ dance, which is hilarious. He’s obviously feeling the trip, jumping around with zero rhythm, laughing with sweaty hair and a perma-grin. Bucky tries for a while to be cool, but Steve’s so fucking _cute_ , and after a while Bucky just thinks _fuck it_ ,and lets himself dance a little close to him sometimes. And sometimes when he gets close he looks at Steve’s face, and sometimes Steve is looking back.

Then someone yells that they’re going for a walk, and the music gets turned off and everyone is heading outside. Bucky wants to stay, but first Natasha and then Wanda grab his hands and drag him out the door.

It's a pretty night. The sky is cloudless, and the moon is full. The street is dark enough that even a few stars peek through the light pollution and make it all the way down to where they are. Natasha slides her arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too,” she says. She’s looking past Bucky, and he follows her gaze. Steve and Sam are walking together, tall dark head and small blond one.

Bucky starts to feel uneasy again—Wilson’s not good to Steve—but he shuts it down. You can really fuck things up with mushrooms if you let the bad feelings in, and there’s no need for negativity right now. Steve looks happy, and even if Wilson is a scumbag, Bucky can’t do anything about it. Why spoil the night?

Bucky loses a little time, then, watching Steve’s feet slip in and out of his vision as they walk. His skin feels really good. He lets Nat maneuver him around corners and up steps, keeping his eyes on Steve’s heels, following his feet like he’s on a string. They all sit down—at least, Steve does, so Bucky does—and Bucky’s vaguely aware of conversations going on around him, but he's not paying attention. He gets distracted looking at his hand.

His skin feels _good_. Like, really, deeply, amazingly good. Occasionally he glances up and people have moved or gone, Wanda’s laughing, Nat is talking to Wilson...but damn, there’s something really fucking _happening_ with his hand; the lines on it, they’re trying to tell him something, he never noticed it before—

“Hey,” says Steve.

Bucky looks up. There’s no one else around. They’re back in the theater courtyard. Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the stage. “Hey.” How long has he been sitting here? “Where’d Nat go?”

“She left a while ago,” Steve says. “I think she asked Sam to walk her home.”

Bucky scowls at the mention of Sam’s name. “He ditched you? When you’re tripping?”

“I can take care of myself,” Steve says. He sits down next to Bucky. “You feeling it?”

“Feeling—? Oh.” He nods. “I guess so.”

Steve smiles. “Me too. It’s nice.”

Bucky frowns down at his hands. “I was just thinking—”

“Yeah, me too,” says Steve.

“No, I mean—look.” He shows Steve his palm.

“What?”

“Look at the lines. I think it’s really...like, a map.”

Steve snorts.

“No, I’m serious,” Bucky says, “look at it.” He holds out his hand, and grabs Steve’s and holds them side by side. “See? Our hands. We’re the same. I think—it’s the universe.”

Steve cracks up. “You are _wasted_.”

Bucky considers this. “Yeah. I guess.” He nods. “Maybe. But I mean it, I’m onto something here.” He knows he was—everything had made perfect sense—but he’s losing the thread now. Fuck! He should have written it down.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. The night is still really warm, even this late, and the courtyard is just so pretty in the moonlight.

“These fireflies are amazing,” Bucky says. “I’ve never seen fireflies in Brooklyn before. You ever seen _this many_ fireflies anywhere before?”

“Oh, man,” says Steve. “You’re getting fireflies? I’m just getting colors, that’s not fair.”

Bucky stares at him. “You don’t see those?”

Steve shakes his head dreamily. “Nah. Just colors. They’re really nice colors, though.”

Bucky hums. The fireflies are nice, too, even if they’re not real. He watches them whirling madly in the restless dark, but then he gets distracted looking at Steve. He’s watching something of his own, and the moon shines down and over him and lights him up until he glows.

He looks over at Bucky and Bucky smiles, and then suddenly Steve jumps up and gets on the stage and yells,

“My mistress with a monster is in love!”

It’s their scene, and Bucky laughs and sits back and watches as Steve delivers the whole monologue. He’s being goofy—changing his voice and yelling his lines as fast as he can—and when he gets to the last line,

“Titania waked, and straightway loved an ass!”

He stops, grinning. It’s Bucky’s cue to jump from the tree and kiss him.

Bucky sits and stares at Steve and doesn’t move, and Steve looks down at him with the smile that Bucky loves, and a look in his eyes that Bucky can’t interpret.

After a moment, Bucky hops down from the edge of the stage.

“Come on,” he says, “I want to show you something.” He holds out his hand.

Instead of taking it, Steve sits down on the edge and pushes Bucky’s shoulder until he turns around, and then climbs onto Bucky’s back.

Bucky laughs, and hears Steve laugh in his ear. He holds Steve, just like in their scenes, his hands curling under his thighs and Steve’s arms slung around his chest. Only it doesn’t feel like in the scene. The closeness makes Bucky giddy, gives him butterflies in his chest; he grins and tips his head back to rest his temple against Steve’s cheek, and Steve breathes in his ear and wraps his arms tighter around Bucky. Everything’s warm and comforting and amazing.

“Where are we going?” Steve whispers.

Bucky doesn’t answer. He carries Steve to the theater, uses his key to open the back door, and then he piggybacks Steve around backstage, through the maze of hallways and dressing rooms, until he finds the door he wants.

It's the prop room. Moonlight spills in from a row of high, narrow windows and illuminates the contents—racks of costumes, a cabinet of weapons and armor, and, lining the longest wall, row upon row of beautiful, crazy masks.

“Wow,” Steve breathes. “Look at all of these!”

“Aren’t they great?” Bucky says. “I love this room.”

Steve climbs down from Bucky’s back and walks closer to the masks. There are all sorts of creatures, Steve has gotten very close to two huge papier-mache baby’s heads. They’re ancient; one’s smiling and one’s crying.

“Bucky,” Steve says quietly. “I think this one is moving.”

Bucky comes to stand beside him and peers at the mask. It smiles at him, and he swears it blinks.

“Oh, shit!” Bucky yells, and grabs at Steve. “Did you see that?”

“Shhh!” Steve says. He giggles. “I’m serious, I think there’s really somebody in there.”

“It’s fucking _possessed_ ,” Bucky whispers, and Steve laughs again.

He keeps staring at the huge baby face and Bucky starts wandering around the room a little. The masks are creepy, and he swears some of them are moving, but it’s nice—they’re smiling at him. The good feelings are still everywhere.

Then he spots the ass’s head mask—the one Clint wears in his scenes with Natasha. It’s gigantic and vaguely terrifying, the donkey’s mouth open in a frozen half-smile, its huge ears sticking up askew toward the ceiling.

Steve is still engrossed in the masks with his back to Bucky, and Bucky picks up the ass’s head and puts it on.

Through the eyeholes, he sees the feather crown that Steve will wear as Puck. It’s resting on a shelf, and Bucky picks it up delicately. He moves carefully back to where Steve is standing, and lowers it onto Steve’s head from behind.

“Here’s your crown,” he says, voice muffled under the mask.

Steve puts a hand up to steady the feathers. Then he turns to Bucky, and lets out a shriek.

“Oh my God, you asshole!” he yells, and smacks Bucky on the shoulder hard. “Take that shit off!”

Bucky does, cackling.

Steve is pouting, and he smacks Bucky again. “I hate that fucking thing,” he says. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and he is. He wants Steve to believe him, so he reaches out to grasp his shoulder. Steve is warm through his shirt, and he turns to Bucky and steps closer, looking up at him and resting his hands on Bucky’s forearms.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, pal,” Bucky whispers.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “Will you kiss me?”

Bucky grins and kisses him. It’s unsteady, and they stumble around a little, knocking shit off the shelves and giggling like idiots. The masks are still watching from the back wall, and the good feelings are still around, and Bucky is finally, finally, touching Steve the way he wants. Getting his hands under his clothes, pulling him close, kissing him, and this time it’s not for show. And oh, wow, Bucky knows he’s tripping his face off right now, but Steve’s hands on him feel better than he ever let himself imagine.

They knock over one of the costume racks and Bucky trips over it and lands on his ass, and Steve collapses into giggles and drops down on top of him with an _Oof!_ They make out on the floor for a while, and it’s fantastic, and they start getting each other naked, and Steve produces a condom and a packet of lube from somewhere.

He says, “Will you fuck me? Please?”

And Bucky doesn’t think twice.

*

Steve turns over on his hands and knees, and Bucky works his fingers into him slowly. Steve moans encouragement, and Bucky’s careful to give him time, waiting until his breathing evens out before he tries to stretch him, petting him to help him through it. He drags his fingertips over Steve’s back; flower petals start to spill out from under his palm. He stills and watches the petals drip down Steve’s skin, purple and lilac and gold swirling together and puddling in the dip of his lower back. It’s so beautiful that Bucky’s eyes fill with tears, and he runs his fingers through them, scoops some up and lets them drip down his wrist, and they smell like jasmine and he paints with them down Steve's back and makes his own swirls reverently on Steve’s skin, and he wants to cry because he suddenly feels like Steve is the most perfect thing he's ever touched.

Then Steve groans and whispers, _Bucky, come on, don’t stop._ Bucky looks up—how long has he been standing dead still, stroking Steve's back?

From the afronted look on Steve's face, it's been a while. “What are you _doing?_ ” he says.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, his voice all breathy and raw. And then, by way of explanation, “You have—” He laughs. “You have fuckin’ flowers all on you.”

Steve stares at him for a second, then drops his head and giggles, shoulders shaking. “What?”

“Flowers,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs harder, and Bucky cracks up. “They're so pretty,” he chokes out, and Steve keeps laughing, and Bucky laughs so hard he falls forward on top of Steve. Steve's arms give out and he collapses laughing face down in the pile of costumes, and Bucky puts his face in his hair and holds him and they laugh until they're both breathless and exhausted and Bucky’s forgotten what was funny in the first place.

Then Steve makes a sexy noise and moves his hips back against Bucky’s hand, and Bucky remembers what they were doing. More importantly, he remembers what he _wants_ to do. He blinks and pulls Steve’s face sideways so he can kiss him, and withdraws his fingers. Then he grabs the condom and gets himself ready.

He sets his knees in place and pushes his cock in slowly. Steve breathes fast and groans and swears, and Bucky pets him and waits. He thrusts when Steve is ready, and it’s good, the good thoughts are still everywhere, and he’s floating on them like wings. Steve is heat, and fire, and Bucky breathes him in and breathes him out and slides his hands over him—like sliding his hands into a flame—and it burns him all the way up. He thinks of angels, and dragons, jewels in the glimmering night. He leans all his weight onto Steve and Steve groans _yes_ , and Bucky answers by putting his mouth to the skin at his neck, skin like silk and inferno-hot, and he feels like honey and cinnamon and wine, and Bucky fucks him nice and slow and tastes him everywhere. It’s the best, the most Bucky’s ever felt, and he’s so glad it’s with Steve, and he holds him and fucks him and spins and floats and spirals, higher and higher.

Then Steve says, _Deeper, oh, deeper_ , and Bucky hauls his ass up and the angle changes. Steve yells, and lights burst behind Bucky’s eyes.

He whispers, _Come on, baby,_ and Steve gasps and whines and says _I’m coming,_ and his body jerks. And that’s what it takes, feeling Steve’s body seize up and hearing him say it, hearing the sob in his voice, and Bucky fucks into him deep and stays there and comes, gasping into his neck. He comes _forever_ , lights bursting and flower petals falling from his hands and the feeling strong in him, like honey, like cinnamon, like wine.

Hazy light pools around them as they calm each other down to quiet breaths, and Bucky's whole body feels amazing just lying there, gliding one hand up and down Steve's arm and kissing his ear, lazily moving his hips as his orgasm ebbs away.

The fireflies are back, and he watches them happily. Steve seems similarly occupied, staring into space, smiling up at nothing. It’s so comfortable. Bucky kisses Steve again and hopes he isn’t dreaming.

He knows vaguely that he shouldn’t have done this. He doesn’t try very hard to remember why, just bats away the idea and holds onto the good feelings. Everything feels beautiful, fucking gorgeous, and Bucky never wants to move again. He closes his eyes.

*


	3. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story by [743ish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/743ish/pseuds/743ish)
> 
> Art by [littleblackfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox)
> 
> Thanks for reading our collaboration for the Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018! 
> 
> CHECK OUT FOX'S ART IN THIS CHAPTER!

ACT III

_Now, when thou wakest,_  
_with thine own fool's eyes peep._

*

_ONE DAY BEFORE OPENING NIGHT_

“Oh, _God_ ,” Steve mumbles with a dry mouth. “What the _fuck_.”

His eyes flick open. The ass’s head is staring down at him from the shelf, its features malevolent in the dimness, and Steve barely conceals his yelp.

“S _hit_.” He puts his hand on his chest to calm himself down.

When the panic passes, he sits up. He feels dizzy, a little, and still floaty. His head hurts. It’s gotten lighter in the high window—not morning, but on the way there.

Bucky is passed out next to him, butt naked and snoring softly. He’s lying in a pile of costumes and he looks so soft and warm, and Steve just feels cold all over and wants to puke.

He looks around at the mess they’ve made. The sight of the condom wrapper is a relief, at the very least. And the rest isn’t so bad: all the stuff that fell off the racks was just storage, from previous productions. Steve’s feather crown survived intact, thank God.

But that awful donkey mask is still staring at him crazily. Ugh. Fuck that thing. Fuck this.

He grabs his shit and runs to the bathroom. 

He yanks on his clothes as best he can in the darkness, fumbling, shaky from the trip that’s fading but definitely not over, and from the panic making his chest tight.

_Fuck_. This is bad. It’s so so bad. Steve maintains very strict personal rules about relationships with coworkers. How could he let this happen?

Those rules have served him so well in the past. He’s built such a solid reputation for being professional. He’s proud of it! He’s dated people he met on productions, but always after the show finished. He’s never banged the fucking LEAD, who’s dating the OTHER lead, and Jesus Christ, never right before opening, oh my _God_...

He has to pass the prop room to get back outside, and he hesitates at the open door. Bucky hasn’t moved. Steve thinks he should probably wake him, but...ugh, he doesn’t want to make awkward small talk and listen to excuses right now. It’s bad enough that this happened. No need to make it worse.

He stares at Bucky a second longer.

_Fairy king, attend, and mark:_  
_I do hear the morning lark._

Outside, the air is still cool. Steve lives in Red Hook, and to get to the subway he has to take the route that they walked last night. It’s bizarre, walking through the courtyard, seeing it in the pre-sunrise light. He’d been so fucking happy, just hours ago. Now the trip is winding down—the visuals are totally gone—and he just feels anxious and buzzy. And goddamn it, he has to get a good sleep tonight. This is the worst.

The sky is fully light by the time gets home, and he makes himself take some Tylenol before he climbs into bed.

He punches his pillow into shape and groans. He aches all over. He’d forgotten how shitty a mushroom comedown is. He knows he won't sleep, and it's not just because his body feels like he just drank four espressos.

He rolls over and tries to talk himself through damage control. Okay, is it really that bad? So he fucked his co-star. Who he's lowkey in love with, while they were both high as shit. And it was amazing. So what? It was just a one-night thing and it was a mistake and they'll get over it. So what if Bucky regrets it? They only have five weeks of the show anyway, and then they'll never have to see each other again. It'll be fine.

But it's not just that he shouldn't have fucked a coworker; Bucky isn't single. This is a huge mess. Christ, what will happen when Natasha finds out?

It's—everything’s ruined now. He can’t even imagine going back tomorrow to perform, after this. Everyone’s going to know what he did.

And Bucky. Holy shit. They’d worked together so well, and Steve admired him so much as an actor, and he’d thought they were almost friends. And God, Steve had been _so_ into him, and the sex was fucking amazing. But he feels sick at the thought that Bucky would cheat on Natasha like that, and that he himself was the cause of it. Obviously Bucky isn’t such a great guy after all.

Ugh. Steve doesn't ever want to leave his bed again.

*

> Steve: are you home?  
>  Steve: are you awake?  
>  Steve: ?????  
> 
> 
> Sam: no
> 
> Steve: no what
> 
> Sam: no i’m not home and i’m not awake
> 
> Steve: where tf did you end up  
>  Steve: Sam  
>  Steve: whatever just don’t wake me up when you come in

*

Bucky is vaguely aware of Steve getting up, but he's too comfy and happy to pay much attention. His whole body is fizzing gently, and when he closes his eyes he gets a full fireworks display behind his eyelids. Which is really fucking cool. His eyes keep flicking open, but he just shuts them again, enjoying the weird colorful lights and the buzzing and the warm happiness in his chest.

When he hears a door banging shut, he sits up. Steve’s not there, and when Bucky gets up and yanks on his pants and goes looking for him, there’s no sign of him.

Oh. He left.

The good feelings evaporate all at once. Steve has gone home to Sam. Steve just _cheated_ on Sam with Bucky. 

Bucky is a gigantic moron.

_Fuuuuck._ He’s still high, but now he really wishes he weren’t, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s gotta get home.

He picks up the tipped-over costume racks and tries to tidy a little before he goes. He has to throw away one long robe from the costume rack that’s all sticky and disgusting, and he stuffs it into a garbage can and hopes no-one will miss it.

He makes it home in time to see the sun rise, but he lowers the blinds in his bedroom and puts his head all the way under the pillow.

Jesus Christ. What the hell has he done?

*

_OPENING NIGHT_

He expects Natasha to tease him mercilessly when he gets to the theatre on Thursday. She has no way of knowing any details of what happened after the party, but Bucky’s gut is churning with guilt and dread, and Natasha just has a way of seeing through him.

He braces himself for the full force of her snark, but it never comes. She arrives not long after him and he runs into her in the hallway, looking...nervous?

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Nat replies, and doesn’t stop. She barely looks at him. She just goes by him silently and heads into the women’s dressing room without another word.

Bucky frowns after her. What the hell. Is she _mad_ at him? How could she know what he did? Oh, Jesus—did Steve tell someone already?

But...why the hell would Nat care?

He thinks about going after her to find out what the fuck is up. But the last thing he wants is a scene, and a moment later it’s irrelevant, because the door at the end of the hallway opens, and Steve comes in with his gear.

He looks up and sees Bucky and instantly drops his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles as he passes.

Bucky moves closer to the wall to let him get by, and watches, slack-jawed, as Steve pushes open the dressing-room door and hurries inside without looking back.

He didn’t even say hello.

Welp. This is fucking _perfect_. It’s opening night, and Bucky is not only the hugest fuckup on the planet, but now both of his main costars hate him. Wonderful.

And Steve wouldn’t _look_ at him. It shouldn’t be a surprise, really, but it makes Bucky feel sick all over again.

He sighs. Better just get this over with.

*

The dressing room is small, and he shares it with all the other men in the cast. He doesn’t have a choice but to get ready five feet away from Steve. _And_ Sam. It’s busy, and there are a bunch of other guys in there too, but the atmosphere is immediately weird.

Wilson is one of those naturally outgoing assholes who talks to everyone like they're family and puts people instantly at ease; Steve is passionate and dynamic and pretty much the sweetest, most genuine human who ever lived. Together, they're usually chatty and funny and, above all, _loud_. But right now they’re dressing silently, eyes down, with twin expressions of extreme discomfort. Neither of them acknowledges Bucky.

It’s awkward as fuck, and Bucky cringes inwardly through the whole process—dressing, getting his hair messed with, sitting still for the makeup artist—and everyone else sends them weird glances and gives them a wide berth.

Barton comes in, half an hour late, carrying 4 duffel bags and a coffee cup, a bagel in his mouth, and he makes unintelligible sounds of greeting and waves his cup at everyone. When he finally puts everything down, he takes the bagel out of his mouth and frowns.

“All right, opening night! Everyone ready?”

Nobody answers him.

Clint looks around. “Jesus, did someone die?” he says. “James, man, what the fuck is up?”

Bucky gives him his angriest glare. In the corner of his eye, he sees Steve doing the same thing.

*

Usually, Bucky would watch the first act from the wings, especially on opening night, or he might spend some time going through his scenes with Steve or Nat. But, since he has monumentally fucked up his relationships with everyone he works with, he just wants somewhere quiet, somewhere he can go over his marks and get himself in the headspace to do his job.

He ends up hanging out in the bathroom.

Wanda finds him there, 10 minutes later, pacing and murmuring his lines.

“ _There you are!”_ she hisses. “Idiot, you are on in five minutes!”

She bustles him out the door. She’s all business tonight, a clipboard and headset that seem incongruous with her flowy style.

She fixes Bucky with a look over her shoulder as he follows her down the hall.

“So,” she says, “how was your night? After the party?”

Bucky clears his throat. “Um, great,” he says, nodding. “Yeah. Great.” Please let that be enough for her…

But she fucking _stops walking_ and turns around. Her weird smile is back. “Did anything happen?”

Oh, my _God_ , Bucky yells in his head. “What do you mean?” he says out loud. For fuck’s sake. Did she hear something, too?

“You were talking with Steve when we left,” she says, and cocks her head. “You like him?”

Bucky clenches his hands into fists. He takes a deep breath and breathes it out through his nose slowly. “Wanda,” he says, “Steve is with Sam. It’s probably best if we don’t discuss anything like this.”

Wanda frowns briefly. Then she laughs. “Steve and Sam are not together.”

Bucky’s stomach drops. He’s about to say, “What?” He’s about to ask for details—when did they break up? Who knows about it? Holy shit, did Sam dump Steve?

But then someone from near the door hisses, “James, get up here now!” and he has to go. Wanda squeezes his arm before she hurries away.

Bucky takes a deep breath. He’s ready to perform. He is not fucking ready at all to face Steve.

The ‘backstage’ area is outside, a small makeshift tent of black canvas that leads from the back door of the theatre to the outdoor stage. The actors can wait there for their cues without being seen by the audience. It’s still daylight outside, but inside the tent is dim and close. There are several people inside, listening to the end of Act I.

Steve is near the exit of the tent. There isn’t much room to pace, but he’s pacing. Bucky doesn’t say anything to him—he doesn’t want to mess up Steve’s mental preparation, but he feels like he has to make some kind of connection. They’re about to perform together! It’s not going to work if they can’t even look at each other.

Bucky meets his eyes and gives him a small smile and a thumbs up. Steve’s eyebrows draw in together, but he nods in acknowledgement. Bucky figures that’s better than nothing.

Nat is also waiting backstage, of course, and she gives him a small smile.

“Everything all right?” Bucky whispers.

She nods tightly. “Yep. All good.”

It’s unusual for her to seem so tense. Maybe it’s just nerves, but Nat never gets nervous. Bucky doesn’t understand what is going on.

“Okay,” he says helplessly.

*

> Sam: Man I’m sorry for acting weird before  
>  Sam: I know you’re onstage but we really need to talk asap  
>  Sam: in private  
>  Sam: I fucked up  
>  Sam: I ate mushrooms with Natasha on Tuesday night and we had sex  
>  Sam: and now she won’t even look at me  
>  Sam: DONT TELL ANYONE  
>  Sam: Barnes will def come after me if he finds out  
>  Sam: fuck I gotta go do the scene with him, i’m serious man come find me asap

*

Their first scene goes...okay. Mostly very well. Actually, pretty beautifully, really, except for the deep sense of unease that Bucky feels when he has to touch Steve. Which is constantly.

He feels fucking _terrible_. He’s fucked up Steve’s whole life, Steve is clearly pissed off about it, and having Bucky all in his personal space all night is probably the last thing the guy wants. 

And yes, Steve is a grown man and can make his own decisions, and Steve made the first move, Steve _asked_ Bucky to fuck him. But they were both in the middle of a fucking hallucinogenic drug trip, and the words _dubious consent_ echo in Bucky’s brain and goddamn it, he flubs a line.

It’s just a little mistake, and he skates over it quickly. The audience won’t notice. But he _never_ does that, and he finishes the scene feeling shaky and miserable.

Aaaaaand then he has to wait in the stupid backstage tunnel with Steve and Sam and Nat while Act III kicks off. It’s horrible. They’re all in a ton of scenes in Act III, so they can’t go back to the dressing rooms, and there’s no excuse for Bucky to sneak out anywhere. They each take up a spot in the tunnel as far from one another as possible.

The minutes tick by. They all pretend they’re listening really hard to the voices coming from the stage, and none of them speaks, even in a whisper. Bucky looks hard at Nat, but she doesn’t acknowledge him. She keeps glancing at Wilson, and she’s _chewing her nail_ , an action so out of character that Bucky is legitimately scared _._ He can see now that she’s not angry. She just seems fucking stressed. What the hell?

Steve has to be on stage a lot more than the rest of them, but between his scenes he’s silent and focused. When they do the kiss scene, it works, but Steve doesn't look Bucky in the face once. Bucky can barely stop himself from cringing.

At one point, when they're back in the tunnel, Wanda pokes her head in. They all turn to look at her, and she grins at them.

“All good?” she says.

Nobody answers her, and her face falls.

She stares at Steve with a baffled expression. She looks from his face over to Bucky, and then at Wilson, then Natasha. Bucky averts his eyes and feigns nonchalance; they all do.

“Steve,” Wanda says. “What’s wrong?”

But Steve shakes his head and shrugs, and then it's his cue, and he has to go onstage.

Wanda pinches the bridge of her nose. She mutters something, not in English.

“Huh?” says Bucky.

Wanda exhales moodily. “You’re all fucking _idiots_ ,” she snaps, and stalks off.

Wilson glances at her retreating back and frowns a little. “Jeez,” he says. “What’s her problem?”

*

At the beginning of Act IV, Oberon and Puck release Titania from her love charm, and she discovers the monstrous donkey-man in her bed.

Bucky and Steve are both in the scene; the sight of Clint in the donkey mask keeps giving Bucky horrible jolts back to the prop room the other night. He makes himself focus on the scene, but it’s always in the back of his mind: when he scared Steve with the mask. And everything that followed from that. How wonderful it had felt. How beautiful Steve was, and how mistaken Bucky had been.

Titania takes one look at Clint with the ass’s head and howls,

“How came these things to pass?  
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!”

It hits a little too close to home. Bucky glances at Steve; he's frowning at the donkey mask. It’s only for a brief moment, but it’s out of character, both for the scene and for Steve. God, this is brutal. Bucky wants to fucking die.

He's gotta do something.

*

When they come offstage, Natasha pushes past them both and stomps into the men’s dressing room with Wilson, which is weird. But Bucky is focused on Steve, who bolts down the hall toward the bathroom. Bucky swears and hurries after him.

They don’t have to be back onstage until the final scene; Bucky has time.

“Hey, Steve?” he tries.

Steve keeps walking, fast, and doesn’t respond.

Bucky tries to catch up. “Steve—”

“Just leave it,” Steve mumbles. He pushes his way into the bathroom.

“Hey,” says Bucky desperately to his back. “I don’t want to be an asshole, I don’t want to bother you. I just want us to be okay.”

Steve finally turns around. His eyes catch on Bucky’s just for a second, before he looks sideways at the wall. He looks miserable.“I’m fine,” he says. “You don't have to say anything. I won't tell Natasha.”

Bucky steps into the bathroom and pulls the door shut behind him. “Tell—what? _Natasha_?” That’s a really weird thing for Steve to say. “Tell her what?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What do you think?”

“But—I thought she knew already!” Bucky is completely lost.

Steve huffs. “Don't you think you should _discuss_ it with her?”

Bucky scrunches his eyes in confusion. ”What? Why?”

Steve throws up his hands. “Because It's kind of a big deal that you cheated on her, you asshole!” he hisses.

Bucky stares at him. “What?” he says blankly. “ _What_? I didn't cheat on Nat!”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “Oh, my God,” he says, “you don't remember—”

“What?” Bucky says again. It may be the only English word he can say right now. “No—Steve—I remember, okay? But I'm not with Nat.”

Steve frowns deeper. “You broke up? Because of the other night?” He shakes his head. “I thought you said you didn't tell her yet.”

“No! Listen.” Bucky closes his eyes and silently prays for patience. This whole thing is so _fucked_. He looks at Steve and clasps him by the shoulders and speaks very slowly. “I was never with Nat. We’re not dating.” He sighs. “You—you thought we were together? This whole time?”

“I—” Steve stops, and his eyes get big. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says.

“Never?”

“Not since college,” Bucky says defeatedly.

But a slow smile starts up on Steve’s face. “So I could have asked you out like, two months ago?” he says.

Bucky’s stomach swoops. What the _fuck_ is happening right now.

He rubs his palms over his face to try and get his balance, then squints at Steve. “What about Wilson?”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, your asshole boyfriend? Remember that guy?”

Steve sputters a laugh. “What?” he says. “Sam's my roommate.”

Bucky's brain screeches to a halt. He rewinds the last 30 seconds of his life and tries to see where he lost the plot, because it _sounded_ like Steve just said that he and Wilson aren’t together. And that’s...that can’t be right, can it? But Steve is still smiling, and he wouldn’t joke about this.

Bucky takes a breath. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Your—wait, _really?_ ”

Steve laughs. “Yeah.”

“But,” Bucky says cautiously, “you said you’d been together for a year?”

Steve looks deeply confused for a moment. Then his mouth drops open. “Oh my God,” he says. He puts his hands over his face and starts to laugh. “Oh my GOD,” he says again, muffled. “I meant—I meant—we’ve been sharing a _place_ for a year.”

“Huh,” says Bucky.

Steve stops laughing, but his eyes are dancing. “Sam is straight.”

“Oh.” Sam is straight!! Sam is _straight_. Bucky LOVES Sam, holy shit. What a great guy.

“He has a crush on Natasha.”

Bucky snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“She’ll be glad to hear that.” Bucky’s brain is slowly catching up to the proceedings, and he gets a little brave. He moves closer, brushes his fingers over the golden tips of Steve’s hair and gently touches his cheek. “So—um. Are you saying I could have asked _you_ out two months ago?”

“Yes,” Steve says. “I would have loved that.” He’s grinning now, that fucking beautiful smile that’s half shy and half wicked, and he steps further into Bucky's space and puts a hand on Bucky's hip.

“Wow,” Bucky says. All at once he’s elated, floating, higher than he ever was on mushrooms, but this isn’t a trip, he isn't dreaming, and Steve is searching his face, and Bucky leans down toward him—

The door opens.

“Guys?” someone says. “Come on, you’re up.”

*

They do the final scene. It goes perfectly, although Bucky knows he's going to have to explain to Nick why gruff, domineering Oberon is suddenly saying all of his lines with the world's goofiest smile. Oberon and Puck share the tree, and then the stage; Bucky lifts Steve onto his shoulder and grins up into his eyes as he delivers Oberon’s final speech.

He lowers Steve gently to the floor when he’s done, and then he can’t help it: a quick, impromptu kiss. Steve squeezes his hand briefly, and Bucky exits the stage.

Steve performs the final lines; he has the stage all to himself. He climbs into the tree and stretches out along a huge branch to end the play with Shakespeare’s famous words:

_If we shadows have offended,_  
_Think but this, and all is mended,_  
_That you have but slumber'd here_  
_While these visions did appear._

It’s haunting, and lovely, and Steve speaking half-obscured under the leaves is even lovelier.

_So, goodnight unto you all._  
_Give me your hands, if we be friends,_  
_And Robin shall restore amends._

Bucky listens from the tunnel and wants to cheer.

He has to head back onstage, though, for the curtain call. Usually Bucky loves this part, especially on opening night, but right now he would much, much rather have it over with quickly.

He bows with Steve, hand-in-hand. They get the longest ovation. It’s awesome, but Bucky really wants to go now. The audience is very generous, and the whole cast has to do _another_ call that wasn’t even planned, and Bucky is about ready to scream PLEASE STOP CLAPPING.

When they can _finally_ get offstage, it’s busy as fuck in the hallway, with everyone milling around and hugging and congratulating each other. Bucky practically drags Steve down the hall and into the dressing room.

He’s just aware enough of his surroundings to notice that Sam and Nat are making out against the wall. Something at the back of his mind registers surprise at the sight of them, but right now Bucky's got more important thing to think about.

He turns to Steve. He’s still holding his hand, and he uses it to reel him in so they're facing each other, nice and close. Steve is grinning, and Bucky smiles back. He runs his hands over Steve's bare shoulders, and Steve tips his face up to him.

Bucky steps back a little.

Steve frowns. “What's wrong?”

Bucky looks around him. “Let me just—”

He maneuvers Steve gently over to the long counter in front of the mirrors.

“What are you doing?” Steve says.

“Okay, here—can I—”

He hoists Steve up under the armpits, and sets him down on the counter. Their faces are exactly level now. Steve laughs a little and Bucky grins, bashful.

“I just—” he steps in close between Steve's legs and wraps his arms around Steve's waist. “I really wanted to get this right the first time.”

Steve grins. “But you’ve done it before.”

Bucky shakes his head. This isn’t like onstage, and it’s the farthest thing from a one-night stand. “This is the first real one,” he says.

Steve's smile fades, and his eyes soften, and he slides his arms around Bucky's neck.

“Yeah,” he says. “Better make it good, then.”

They’re still kissing a few minutes later when there’s a knock on the door, but neither of them look up.

The door opens, and then closes again quickly. Bucky’s pretty sure he hears someone in the hallway scream “Ugh, _finally_!”

It sounds like Wanda.

Huh. Wonder what that’s all about.

*

_Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time._

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> 743ish: Thank you to littleblackfox for creating this amazing art, and the prompt that got this story going! I was so lucky to work with such a fun and creative and supportive collab partner.
> 
> HUGE thanks to Dreadnought for the beta, and for cheerleading me through my first real au!
> 
> Thanks also to SoftObsidian74 for the very helpful feedback on my first draft :)
> 
> Mods, this was great fun! Thank you!
> 
> Littleblackfox: Thank you to 743ish for taking my crackerassed prompt and making something so beautiful! I adore the story so much, you're amazing!
> 
> Thank you to Trish the trash unicorn and Alby for concrit and feedback while I was crying over anatomy, and Jillian for cheerleading.
> 
> And an extra loud thank you to the rbb mods for creating the most wonderful event, I love you guys, I will crochet you sea creatures.
> 
> Lastly, if you haven't seen it yet, I loudly and enthusiastically encourage you to see A Midsummer Night's Dream directed by Dominic Dromgoole! The art wouldn't exist without it.


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